


The Photo Shoot

by lola381pce



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cutting, F/M, Murder, Photography AU, Scars, Shooting, Torture, alternate au, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson, SHIELD Security's Senior Forensic Accountant, has been talked into taking part in the company's 2015 Calendar shoot being photographed by Melinda May, a well-known and popular photographer...however things are not quite as straightforward as he was led to believe by his assistant, Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The photo shoot

**Author's Note:**

> The Calendar Shoot is inspired by two gifs blogged by two tumblr buddies and a photo taken for Empire magazine (see the end of the fic for the images). Thank you to all and I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself with this fic. I don’t know much about photo shoots or forensic accountancy but I hope you’ll bear with me and enjoy the story anyway. 
> 
> This was originally posted on my Tumblr blog (lola381pce.tumblr.com) for Philinda Bingo on Fuckyeahphilinda which is run by ddagent.
> 
> As always, the characters belong to Marvel and I'm just amusing myself with them. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. I'd love for you to leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed it (or not, of course).

“Hi. Come in. You must be…” Melinda consulted her list “…Mr Coulson?” 

He nodded as he hesitated just inside the door. “Phil” he told her with a small smile. He seemed somewhat reluctant to be there; actually that was putting it mildly she thought, he looked like he was bricking it but he shook her hand with a firm and steady grip. That was promising but thank god he was the last one for today, especially if she was going to have to hold his hand through the next forty minutes or so. This was going to be a tricky shoot if he really didn’t want to do it, which would be a shame as he looked damn good dressed in a blue three-piece suit with white shirt, blue tie and red handkerchief; perfect for the ‘Men in Work Suits’ element of the SHIELD Security 2015 charity calendar.

Melinda tried to put him more at ease. Usually asking personal questions seemed to work, so she started by enquiring about what he did for the company that was paying for all the photography sessions and for the calendar itself. “So tell me Phil, what do you do at SHIELD?”

“I’m a forensic accountant. I specialise in securities fraud,” he murmured, rubbing the inside of his collar awkwardly as she led him further into the huge open-plan studio.

“And what does a forensic accountant who specialises in securities fraud actually do?” She was teasing him, just a little but he didn’t seem to notice as his eyes scanned round the studio. She sighed internally…ah well.

“I analyse data and look for patterns in company accounts for proof of fraudulent activities then provide evidence at trial.” As he answered he looked at all the props until his eyes settled on a large office layout. He seemed almost comfortable looking at it. Okay, that was good – that’s where she’d pose him.

“Like Jack Ryan?”

Unexpectedly, he looked at her and grinned which crinkled corners of his remarkable blue eyes. For some reason she felt a rush of pleasure at that; she’d only met the guy two minutes ago and it had been a very long day with his colleagues, some of whom had been nice and easy to work with, others had been total asses, but that amazing smile sparked something inside her giving her a fourth wind, second and third having been worked through hours ago. Melinda concentrate, she admonished herself.

“It’s been a while since I shot someone because of fraudulent accounts activities; for other reasons though? Well I could tell you but…” She smiled back at him surprised by a sense of humour. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“So what made you decide to take part in the photo shoot?” she asked as she set up her camera in front of the desk.

This time his smile was somewhat self-conscious and his hand fidgeted with his collar again. “Alcohol probably. I don’t normally go on work’s nights out but this was my assistant, Darcy’s birthday so I made an exception.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Yes…and no. She insisted we did shots to celebrate and I guess it was around that time the calendar thing came up. I was too busy trying to hold something called a “Flatliner” down without embarrassing myself, and her, by throwing it back up again.”

“Hmm. Not so good with alcohol then?”

“No, I’m fine with alcohol, but I wouldn’t even fuel my car with that stuff.”

“So what would you normally drink?” Melinda was shocked at herself. Was she actually asking him what he likes to drink? Was she flirting with him? Melinda May…concentrate! But he smelled so good too.

“Depends on the circumstances, but preferably not something that I would generally use to strip paint. So…how would you like to do this?”

“How about here in the office scene?  You looked most at ease with that when you came in.”

He nodded thoughtfully. Although Phil had begun to relax when he was talking with Melinda, his body seemed to tense up again now that they were actually going to do the shoot.

“Phil, you’re going to be fine. You’ll see all the photos when I’ve finished and if there are any you really don’t like or that make you uncomfortable, I’ll delete them. Okay?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled trying once again to relax. “Okay.”

They tried a few different ways of him sitting until Melinda finally settle on him being perched on the edge of the desk with his hands clasped in his lap. She viewed it thought the camera lens and smiled. Yeah that looked good;  _he_  looked good. Melinda May! Get a grip! she told herself again. She’d been photographing hot (and not so hot) guys all day for this calendar shoot but Phil seemed different. He appeared to be genuinely shy about doing this where the others had been full of bravado. It was really quite a pleasant change from the heavy handed comments she’s been receiving up until now. She wasn’t sure if it was his quiet, unassuming manner, or the way he held himself (something more than an accountant there she figured) or just the way he seemed to have no idea how he looked, especially in that suit with the dark blue material going so well with those amazing eyes but she was beginning to find him very attractive. Jeeeez! Enough now! There was a shoot to finish.

“Just relax. Tell me something about yourself. What sort of things do you like to do on your days off?”

He looked directly at the camera for a few moments as he answered and Melinda made sure she took several shots. There was something about that piercing stare that made her mouth go dry and her heart beat a little faster. What the hell was wrong with her!

“I guess I’m more physical at the weekends than I am at work.” He gave her that little half grin again (click, click…pause – was he flirting with her? Oh my god! He was flirting with her! She grinned from behind the camera). “Sitting behind a desk or travelling for business isn’t great for fitness so I tend to hill walk with friends or play basketball and I practice Brazilian Jui-Jitsu. Things like that.”

Ha! Martial Arts…she knew it! “So team sports?”

“Or a little one-on-one occasionally.” Did he just smirk? Seriously? The suit had her completely fooled; he was actually a shameful flirt…and it was working. Damn him! “I have a friend who teaches archery. Sometimes I do that too.”

“Sounds like that could be fun.” She stood from her position behind the camera. “Alright, Phil, you did great. I’m confident one of these photos is going to look really good in the calendar.”

Phil smiled with relief as he stood up from the desk. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. You’re good at putting people at their ease; thank you.”

Melinda looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk of her own. “You’re welcome but this is only the first shoot. The next one might be a little more challenging.”

A double crease appeared in Phil’s forehead as he frowned. “There’s another shoot?”

“Ye-e-e-s. The title of the calendar is Men in work suits / Men in birthday suits.”

Phil’s face went white. “Birthday suits? As in…no clothes?”

“Didn’t Darcy explain that?”

Phil shook his head, “Not in so many words, no.” He slumped back down on the edge of the desk again.

Melinda was worried. She had begun to think the shy persona was an act but right now he looked like he was going to throw up. Maybe it was time to break out the whisky she kept in her drawer for moments like these; actually there was no maybe about it. She walked briskly over to her own desk in the corner and pulled a bottle of Highland Park along with two glasses and poured a generous measure into one and a smaller amount into the other before returning the bottle to the drawer. She made her way back to Phil and handed him the larger of the two. He took it from her silently and downed it in one without flinching. Shit! She thought. That Flatliner must have been seriously strong stuff. The whisky she gave him was good, very good but pretty potent and he didn’t even flinch. Either that or he was more in shock that she realised.

“Phil, you don’t need to do this, especially if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Suddenly he took a deep breath a determined expression coming over his face; he was obviously a man who, when he made up his mind to do something, didn’t change it. “No, it’s okay. I should have realised Darcy would never organise anything that was straightforward.” He took another deep breath and let it out slowly then gave her a flash of that disarming grin. “Right let’s do this. How “no clothes” are we talking?”

Melinda pursed her lips as she considered how to tell him that everyone else was completely in the scud bearing all with varying degrees of success. “Well the others were down to skin with a strategically placed object. But if that freaks you out…”

His grin faltering slightly but with more confidence that he felt, he said, “Nope – a strategically placed object it is. So…”

They looked at each other for a moment before talking at the same time.

“Do you want me to let you…?”

“Should I, eh…?”

Melinda turned her back as Phil stripped out of his clothes and within a few moments she heard him “ahem” to get her attention. She turned and it took all of her training as a professional photographer not to lick her lips, tear off her own clothing and tackle him to the ground. That suit was hiding a very hot body indeed from his muscular forearms to a broad, sexy, hairy chest and strong shoulders. And as for the rest…in her defence she tried, with all her willpower she tried, but in the end she just couldn’t help herself and her eyes dropped to his crotch. WTF! Was he hung? Jeez was he hung! Eventually she realised she was still staring and snapped her eyes back up a flush spreading across her cheeks. Phil was smirking at her.

“So…where do you want me, Melinda?” His voice had deepened and had a raw edge to it. Oh my god!

Preferably on your back with me riding you ‘til I come screaming your name she thought to herself. However trying to regain some measure of control, she raised an eyebrow at him as though completely disinterested and proud of the way her voice sounded (she wasn’t panting at least) she said, “How about you repeat the pose from earlier?”

Still smirking he nodded and sat on the edge of the desk again, his cock resting against his thigh. “Like this?”

Now it was she who needed the whisky. She had no idea why he was so embarrassed about doing this shoot; he was the whole package in and out of his clothes. Those broad shoulders seemed even bigger and his chest, that gorgeous chest, was lush – she could imagine running her fingers through the hair – and did she mention he was hung? Jeez she still had to take his photo. Once again proud of her control, she rolled her eyes at him and handed him the sheaf of blueprints that had been sitting on the desk. “Do you think this will be big enough?”

He snorted out a laugh and taking the rolled up bundle of drawings carefully from her, held it in front of his more than ample manhood. “You know, I think it might just work.”

Melinda shook her head at him, huffing out her own laugh and returned to the camera to take the last few photos making sure she captured his mischievous smile as well as everything else. She tried to tell herself it was her photographer’s eye that was appreciating the fine male form that was in front of her but in reality it was her feminine eye. Of all the well-sculpted younger men with killer abs and pecs she shot today, Grant Ward and Antoine Triplett standing out most in her mind, it was a forensic accountant with the shy, boyish charm and enormous…grin that almost made her break her professional code of conduct by leaping on him there and then. Damn him!

She stood up from the camera. “Okay, Phil. For someone who looked ready to throw up not so long ago you did really well. You sure you weren’t faking?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been accused of that before,” Melinda rolled her eyes again making him chuckle. “I’m sure. Like I said, you’re good at putting people at ease. And the Highland Park maybe helped a bit too. And I guess I made a promise to someone I’m fond of so…” he shrugged.

God! Could he get any more adorable? And he knew his whisky, she thought, quietly impressed. “Uh-huh. Well, you can get your clothes back on. I’m pretty sure I have something I can work with.” She turned her back again and removed the data card from the camera to upload the images into her pc then walked back to her desk to give him some privacy. She was so intent viewing the images of him (suited and booted rather stripped and ripped) that she didn’t hear him approach and she jumped when he began to talk.

“I drink wine with good food; beer with pizza and hot dogs; and whisky with friends. Maybe you could pick one and give me a call.”

She turned to face him and with mock outrage responded, “Phil Coulson! Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Wine with good food it is then.” He stood close to her, just inside her personal space, and held out a business card. Their fingers touched briefly as she took it from him; it was an enjoyable sensation. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Melinda. I hope some other time I might get to know you as well as you now know me.”

“I guess that depends on the wine and good food, Phil.” He smiled and nodded then walked to the door. She followed him and held it open. “I wouldn’t necessarily rule it out though.”

 

***

Well, I hope you enjoyed - the story was inspired by these awesome images…


	2. Wine with good food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know, Phil. Maybe sometimes things should be left as they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst commence.

Melinda had been waiting forty-five minutes for Phil to arrive at the restaurant and had gone from being worried (what if he’d had an accident or been mugged) to feeling like a complete idiot (was he having second thoughts / had she been stood up) and was now approach simmering fury. And so help her if the waiter gave her one more sympathetic yet unbelievingly patronising look she was going to punch him in the throat.

She tried to remember her phone call with Phil to arrange the “wine with good food” date. He’d seemed friendly enough, but in hindsight perhaps he _had_ been a little distant as though he was listening to her but his mind was somewhere else. Perhaps he felt obligated to have dinner with her after giving her his card but didn’t really want to. Still he’d suggested this place and this wasn’t the sort of restaurant where you met someone if you weren’t interested…was it? Maybe it was for him. God! Her mind was running riot with insecurities and a sudden lack of confidence. This wasn’t like her and she hated feeling like this; it was like being back at high school all over again.

She checked her cell, still no message. Enough was enough; she’d already given him considerably more time than she would normally give a first date so the hell with him. He wasn’t _that_ special. And at that moment Phil chose to make his entrance.

He nodded and smiled at the maître de then headed straight towards her table when he spotted her from the door. She felt that same flutter in her stomach that she experienced when she saw him in the studio. God! He looked good; a little tired maybe but _very_ good. Damn him! Freshly shaven wearing a mid-grey suit, black shirt open at the collar showing a sexy throat and some chest hair; that open necked collar made a wonderful target for her tongue...or her fist, she hadn’t decided yet.

“You look beautiful,” he told her as he bent down to give her a soft kiss on the cheek before he unfastened the middle button of his jacket to take his seat. Ohhh! He smelled good too; that same spicy, masculine cologne that he’d worn at the studio which did something to stoke the fire that was flaring in the pit of her stomach.

And I want to lick you from top to bottom she thought however he wasn’t getting round her that easily. She knew she looked good; spending time and a small fortune at the salon having hair styled and make-up applied and wearing a classic ‘little black dress’ she adored and felt comfortable wearing all helped. But she appreciated him saying, so she thanked him politely then said no more – he was going to have to work a damn sight harder to make up for being so late and not phoning. He gave her with a flash of that shy grin that had enchanted her when she first met him. Now she wasn’t so sure. It would depend on what he said next, which was precisely…nothing.

Unimpressed, she raised an eyebrow at him. Work related issues, if it was a work related issue, she could understand, hell she’d had enough of them herself, but she thought he would have been the type to call or text if he’d been held up. It was only common courtesy after all.

“I guess there must be a problem with cell phones where you work.”

He looked at her confused, as though the comment didn’t make sense. “I’m sorry?”

Seriously? He wasn’t even going to acknowledge he was late! And not just by five minutes… What had happened to the guy she photographed in the studio? The sweet, self-effacing and incredibly hot guy she’d been attracted to? Okay, hot was still there but she never pegged him for the type who wouldn’t admit when he was in the wrong. That was disappointing to say the least and was making her question her decision to call and make tonight’s date. Maybe she should have waited until she returned from Italy instead of calling him on impulse before heading away on her assignment.

He looked at her expectantly for her to expand on her comment but instead she shook her head and picked up her menu trying not to let her annoyance get to her. It would make for a very long night otherwise and it had been long enough already with her suffering those bloody condescending glances from the waiters every time they went past. Speaking of whom, their waiter, who apparently knew Phil, appeared and asked about drinks. Phil looked to Melinda who shook her head again declining the offer.

“We’ll wait until we order, Simon, thanks. Have you had a look at the menu? Melinda, is something wrong?” he asked as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Unbelievable! “Why don’t you order for both of us,” she told him sweetly, closing the menu with a snap. Let’s see how you cope with that, Mr Almost-No-Show. However he seemed to take it in his stride. Damn him! He told the waiter to give them a few moments and then asked her about any allergies or food intolerances, her preferences between red meat and white meat or if she was vegetarian and finally if she liked red or white wine.

Apparently satisfied with her responses, he closed his menu which signalled the waiter into immediate attendance. As he gave Simon the order Melinda took the time to look at him, really look at him. Compared to their first meeting where he was serious yet mischievous, he seemed to be a man who was stressed and exhausted but trying not to show it; from the dark circles beneath his eyes to his tense body language, and the way he couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting – with the knife, the fork, the wine glass.

It still rankled that he’d never apologised for being late but she was beginning to wonder if his confusion was genuine. If that was the case, what the hell was wrong with him? What was making him so distant? Even his humour and flirting were half-hearted at best as they made small talk waiting for the food to arrive and when it did it was excellent; she couldn’t fault any of his choices or the chef’s preparation of the dishes. As for the wine; the wine was spectacular, even if Phil only had one glass of it, drinking tumbler after tumbler of water instead. He kept her glass topped up until she’d had enough when he stopped refilling immediately upon her request. It should have been a wonderful evening, but it wasn’t and she couldn’t really say why, just that something felt off.

Throughout the meal, he had tried to be gracious and charming and considerate discussing her up and coming three week assignment in Italy, how the calendar was coming along and other projects she had worked on but there was an edge and a distance to him that she just wasn’t able to figure out and it was making her feel uneasy. She tried to shake it off but the conversation was becoming stilted and not even his boyish charm and disarming smile could rescue things.

Eventually when it became agonizingly uncomfortable Phil sighed and sat back in his seat. He looked at her with a tired smile and said, “Melinda, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not much company tonight.”

“You know, Phil, this was a lovely meal and the wine was wonderful but…” She placed her napkin next to her plate and looked at him.

He nodded. “But you hated it.”

“I…”

He didn’t really want to hear her reply in case it was confirmation of his words, so he spoke again before she could say any more. “It’s okay, Melinda. I understand. Why don’t we call this a night and maybe when you get back from assignment, we can try again…if you’d like to.” He looked both hopeful and pessimistic at the same time which was quite the achievement.

“I don’t know, Phil. Maybe sometimes things should be left as they are.”

He looked so crestfallen by what she said that she almost changed her mind but she stayed firm. Everyone can have an off day but it felt like something more than that, almost as though he was trying to hide something. She’d already had one boyfriend who did that; it had ended emotionally and violently (thankfully he was still in prison in another state) but so help her she wasn’t going to go through that again, not even for Phil and she’d rather end it now than be hurt again. Not that he could possibly hurt her the way that John had. The scars he left her with still caused her pain sometimes.

She still found him attractive, very attractive, in fact she’d lost count of the number of times she wanted to pull him over the table and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe but maybe that just wasn’t enough.  She felt herself flush at the image and suddenly she had to get out of there now. She stood almost knocking the chair over in her haste to find Phil standing behind her carefully guiding the seat away from her as if he knew she needed to get away from him.

As Melinda looked round at him she saw that the determined look had come over Phil’s face the way it had just before the naked section of the photo shoot as though a decision had been made. He waved over the waiter and asked him to arrange a cab for Melinda. She started to protest as he disappeared off to do Phil’s bidding but in a gentle voice he told her it was the least he could do. Then, ever the gentleman, he helped her with her coat and walked her to the door just as a yellow cab pulled up.

Once again he kissed her cheek softly. “I’m sorry I blew it, Melinda. You deserve better.”

He accompanied her to the cab and opened the door for her. “You really do look beautiful,” he said as she stepped inside and he closed it carefully behind her. As the car pulled way Melinda thought she was probably making the biggest mistake of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...I did warn you. Hope you stay with it though.


	3. Beer with pizza and hotdogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “With all due respect, Phil…sir, you’re a klutz when it comes to dating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst continue...

“So boss, how did the big date go?” asked Darcy bouncing along beside him as Phil walked into the open plan area to get to his office. He grunted non-committally and tried to dodge past her so that he could enter his own space, close the door and shut out the world. However, she’d been hyper since getting in half an hour early to catch him before the office got busy to find out if _he_ “got busy” the night before and didn’t let him go quite so easily.

“That good, huh? C’mon. Spill dude…eh I mean sir,” she amended as he glared at her.

“Darcy, go away. It didn’t go well and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did anything?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “With all due respect, Phil…sir, you’re a klutz when it comes to dating.”

His mouth dropped open as he tried to protest but the words died in his throat, she was right; he was hopeless. More often than not, work got in the way but he was sure this hadn’t happened last night – last night he was just…off somehow. He snapped his mouth shut again and continued to his office but Darcy was not to be dissuaded and she danced round him like a terrier playing soccer.

“C’mon, sir. Spill. Maybe I can help.”

“Darcy, no. Go away. I do not want to talk about it and I have a trial to prep for.”

“Oh shit! You were late, weren’t you? You were late and you didn’t call…and she thought you stood her up, didn’t she? Oh Phil! How could you?”

Phil stared at her – it’s pretty much what Melinda had implied. In another time Darcy would have been burned at the stake as a witch. Actually he was pretty tempted right now. “Why would you say that?”

“Duh! The trial. I bet you got caught up in work and you were late. I bet she looked hot too. Probably spent a fortune to look great, actually maybe not coz she looks great in jeans and a t-shirt but she probably got her hair and make-up done, maybe got a new dress…”

Phil looked horrified. What if she had done all those things? What if he _had_ turned up late? She would be right to think he was a first-class, prize prick!

“I’m right. You can say it, boss. Darcy, The Magnificent, you are correct in every way which not only makes you more awesome than usual but makes me a klutz when it comes to dating. Hey, Phil, are you okay?” Darcy paused in her self-congratulation when she realised Phil was looking as though someone had kicked him in the balls or at least punched him in the stomach.

“I  _wasn’t_  late,” he whispered trying desperately to remember what had happened before he left for the restaurant. “At least, I was ready to leave an hour before we were due to meet – I was going to walk because it was a lovely evening. When I got there something didn’t seem right. Melinda seemed angry with me and she mentioned something about me having a problem with cell phones but she didn’t say anymore about it. Angry like maybe I’d been late.”

 “Oh fuck me! Phil did you have a seizure?” He just stared at her. “Phil, do you think you had a seizure?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. I guess I wondered that when she made the comment about there being a problem with cell phones where I work but I can’t remember it happening.”

She saw how devastated he looked at the sudden realisation that a) he’d possibly had an epileptic seizure, something he hadn’t had for a long time and b) Melinda probably thought he was a dick because he hadn’t even bothered to let her know he was going to be late admittedly he hadn’t known himself but _she_ didn’t know that.

She guided him into his office and sat him down at this desk then brought him a cup of strong black coffee. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Yeah! Yeah! You don’t like people knowing. But you’d have saved yourself a shit load of problems if you had. Maybe we can fix it though.”

“I doubt it. I think she kind of hates me.”

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“I booked a table in an expensive restaurant where the waiters are more acerbic than Joan Rivers and it looks as though I turned up really late apparently with no explanation and no apology.”

“Okay, yeah…she hates you. But she’ll get over it.”  Phil looked at her with scepticism. “Okay, maybe not any time soon but she’ll get there…eventually. Maybe?” Even Darcy was having a hard time persuading herself. “You better hope she doesn’t Photoshop horns onto your photos for the calendar!”

Phil dropped his head in his hands and groaned. The calendar!

“Look, I’m sure there’s a way we can salvage this…just not sure how yet.”

Phil sighed sadly. “It’s fine Darcy. I appreciate you trying but I messed up and I’ll have to deal with it. I’ll apologise to Melinda again somehow but right now I really need to concentrate on the trial.”

“‘Kay Boss.” Darcy gave his shoulder a squeeze and left him to get organized with his day. He took a sip of the coffee and switched on his computer to work on the upcoming case, a case where if found guilty the defendant, one Ian Quinn, scientist and industrialist, would spend years if not the rest of life in prison and lose hundreds of millions of dollars. It was Phil’s responsibility to trace and verify every fake account, every dummy corporation and every fraudulent activity before the case came to trial. It was one of the biggest cases the firm had handled and he along with his team had been working on it for months after Darcy had initially found the tell tail signs during a routine audit.

A few hours later Phil poked his head out his office door looking for Darcy but she didn’t appear to be around. He spoke to his assistant’s best friend as she went past. “Skye, have you any idea where Darcy is?”

“Is there something I can do for you, boss?” she asked skirting round the question.

Phil narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her recognising evasion techniques when he heard them. “Sure, Skye…you can tell me where Darcy is.”

She hesitated torn between keeping Darcy’s secret and answering a direct order. The rule between the two friends when covering for each other was avoid telling the truth until a question that couldn’t be dodged was asked or direct order was given. It generally took a lot less time for Phil to get there than other bosses and today was no exception.

“She might, and I totally stress _might_ , have said something about going over security footage from last night then maybe going over some photos for the calendar at the studio.” 

Phil rolled his eyes and headed for his phone. Fuck his life! This time he _was_ going to fire her.

***

Darcy once again tapped ‘Ignore’ on her cell phone as she recognised the number of the persistent caller.

“You’re really not going to answer that?” Melinda asked, vaguely amused. It was the third time the phone had rung and the third time Darcy had ignored it. “It sounds like it might be important.”

“Nope,” she replied her lips popping on the ‘p’. “It’s just work anyway. Soooo…Phil kinda cooked his goose with you last night, huh?” Darcy didn’t look at Melinda choosing instead to pretend to nonchalantly rifle through the photos on the photographer’s desk.

Melinda raised an eyebrow at Darcy. “He  _told_  you?”

“Nope, at least not willingly. Phil’s a great guy but sometimes he thinks with his ass. Hey don’t look at me like that,” she said as Melinda rolled her eyes. “He _is_ a great guy.” Then she held up a photo of Naked!Phil  “Besides it’s a really nice ass. I had no idea _that_ was hiding under his suits.”

Melinda tried to hide a smirk as she agreed in her head that it  _was_  a nice ass. But Darcy caught it and ran with it.

“Seriously, he wouldn’t have been late if he could help it but work right now is really crazy.”

“Darcy, I’m not angry at him for being late but he left me sitting in that restaurant without letting me  _know_  he was running late and then he ignored the fact he _was_ late…that burned. I should probably have left sooner…” she trailed off.

It did sound pretty shit when she heard it from Melinda’s point of view. She’d be pissed herself if she hadn’t known the real reason for his behaviour. She carried on regardless. “So you’re angry at yourself.”

“No, I’m angry at him….I’m pissed off at myself.”

“Give him another chance. Please?” she whined.

Melinda snorted out a laugh. God but Darcy was a pain in the ass!

“It’s not happening, Darcy. It just didn’t work out. Besides have you ever been to that restaurant?”

“Are you kidding? It costs more to eat there at one sitting than I earn a month.”

“Really?”

“Uh-yeah! He was trying to impress you. I bet he ordered all the right things and a perfect wine to go with them and another one for desert. Did you have desert?”

Melinda shook her head. “By that time we weren’t really holding a conversation.”

“Oh. Pity. So how about it, Melinda? You gonna give him another chance to impress?” She held up another photo of Naked!Phil and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “You could tap some of that if it goes well second time round.”

“My god, Darcy! Please don’t say “tap that” when you’re referring to anyone ever again. Look, I know you mean well but can we just move on. If you want to review the photos for the calendar that’s fine but if not maybe you should just go back to work and let me get on.”

“Okay…I wasn’t going to do this but you leave me no choice.” She reached into her giant purse and brought out her laptop and a pen drive which she inserted in the slot then opened a file. She turned the screen round for Melinda to see and it showed Phil standing in the hallway leading to the elevators. It was date stamped from the previous evening and time stamped approximately one hour before their date.

“What’s this?”

“Just watch.”

Melinda looked at her as though she was insane. “What _is_ this?”

“It’s what happened last night before Phil met you at the restaurant.”

“I won’t…”

“Watch the damn film.”

Melinda started at the forceful way with which Darcy spoke then sighed and stared at the screen. It was apparent from early on that there was something very wrong. Phil was standing in one spot staring at the wall his eyes blinking rapidly but apparently unseeing; his body had gone rigid and sweat was beading on his forehead; his hands started to shake and the tremors seemed to spread up his arms and shoulders to his head; his pallor changed to deathly pale as the sweat began to roll down his face. It looked at though his breathing was becoming laboured and stressed. This lasted for maybe five or so minutes and then slowly, as though he was waking up, he began to come to. He looked confused and seemed slow to respond to his surroundings. Carefully and evidently with some difficulty, he ran his hand over his face then leaned his head against the wall for a few minutes with his knuckles resting on either side of his shoulders. Eventually he pushed off and walked slowly down the corridor.

Melinda was silent as she watched the screen so Darcy spoke. “He used to be in the army, a badass Army Ranger actually. Used to be part of some pretty heavy missions and got hurt a few times. The last one was a head injury that caused some shitty brain trauma which got him honourably discharged and left him with epilepsy. Now and again he has seizures, pretty much like you see here. They don’t happen often and no-one’s quite sure what sets them off when they do occur but they’re more likely to happen when he’s stressed. And right now he’s major fucking stressed. I wish I could tell you why but I can’t. This is why he was late, Melinda. He had a seizure.”

“Why didn’t he say something?” Melinda asked quietly deeply saddened by what she’d seen and heard. If she’d known about this last night she’d have reacted differently. As it was, by the time she got home she realised she shouldn’t have been so judgemental and felt miserable for the rest of the night. Now, when she didn’t think she could feel any worse, Darcy showed her this. She was such a jerk!

“Well for one thing he doesn’t talk about it coz he’d an idiot! And in all honesty he probably didn’t even know it happened. He’s on meds that usually control it really well but when he comes out of it he’s can be confused, has some memory loss, appears anxious and looks like shit basically. How was he at the restaurant?”

“Pretty much all of the above,” she admitted.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah, so you thought he was just being an asshole…”

Melinda nodded embarrassed. “Hey don’t sweat it. I thought he was pissed the first time it happened. It was the Big Boss that told him to tell me about it or he’d kick his ass.”

“Should he drink with the meds? It’s just he told me he got pulled into the photo shoot because it was your birthday and he was downing shots.”

Darcy laughed. “Yeah, one shot. I was sure he was gonna barf it back up after he downed it!”

“And I gave him a whisky at the studio on the day of the shoot. Dutch courage for the birthday suit section,” she explained.

“Yeah, he takes a drink now and again but ‘a’ drink. How much wine did have last night?”

Melinda thought back. “A glass, I guess.”

“Melinda, he’s a really great guy. He’s caring, he’s gentle and he makes a tonne of cash. Okay that last one doesn’t really matter but he seriously _is_ a great guy…and have you seen his ass?” She held up another photo and waved it at her.

Melinda rolled her eyes but this time allowed the smirk to show.

“So you’ll call him?”

Melinda stared at Darcy for a few moments before looking back to the screen. Eventually she turned back to Phil’s assistant and nodded. She had a serious apology to make anyway.

“Yay!” screamed Darcy and jumped off her seat to hug the photographer.

***

A week after Melinda’s return from Florence, Phil walked across the lobby of SHIELD Security’s offices with a spring in his step – she had given him a second chance, thanks to Darcy (prize pain in the ass but ultimately wonderful Darcy). They’d agreed on something more low key than their first date; pizza or maybe hotdogs. Melinda was supplying the food at her studio and he was bringing the beer. He smiled as he left the building, happy that he was seeing her again. It was the last thought he had as the bullet hit him in the chest lifting him off his feet and smashing him through the plate glass window. Screams echoed in the lobby as his blood mingled with the beer from the broken bottles of Sam Adams that he picked out the previous evening.

Melinda stared at the cold pizza still in the box. This time, giving him the benefit of the doubt, she’d phoned Phil’s cell a couple of times but it went to straight to his answer service. It was now an hour after their agreed meeting time at the studio and there had been no phone call or text message from him…again. Fuck him! She was definitely worth more than this. She picked up the boxes and dropped them in the bin before picking up her things and heading to the door switching off the lights and locking up behind her. The only way she’d forgive him this time would be if he was dead or dying. It was another couple of days before those words came back to haunt her when she found a newspaper from the day after they were supposed to meet and the headline, along side a photo of Phillip J Coulson, read “Security CEO slain in gangland shooting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry...


	4. Whisky with friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I believe you specialise in naked photos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sorry...
> 
> Please be warned, there are descriptions of torture - it happens in the past but just in case it triggers something for you.

“I believe you specialise in naked photos.”

Melinda dropped her keys and whirled round to face the ghost of Phillip J Coulson. “Oh my god! Phil! I thought…”

“I know. I’m so very sorry.” He bent down to pick up her keys and handed them to her. She felt a jolt as his fingers touched hers much as they had done when he’d given her his business card all those months ago. Melinda looked at him hardly believing her eyes but there he was, in the pouring rain, standing in front of her soaking wet with raindrops running down his face plastering his hair to his head. “Why? Why didn’t you…anyone…tell me.”

“We couldn’t.”

Her eyes hardened. “’We couldn’t’? Seriously? Well thanks for letting me know now. Goodnight, Phil.” And she turned back to open the outside door to her studio.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I’d like to explain…if you’ll let me.”

Melinda looked at him over her shoulder. He seemed so wretched and yet hopeful at the same time. She wanted to reach out and touch his face but seeing him again after believing he was dead was so painful, she just couldn’t. He seemed to comprehend how she was feeling and nodded. “I understand. Take care, Melinda,” he said softly and turned to leave.

“Phil.” She opened the door and walked through, holding it open for him. He followed her closing it carefully behind him. He wiped his hand over his face then through his hair trailing little pools of water as he walked behind her. She unlocked a second door and entered they keycode to her security alarm before switching on the lights to her studio. She walked over to her desk and dropped her purse and keys on the top before leaning against it breathing heavily, shock at seeing him alive finally setting in.

He stood at the door and looked round hardly believing it was almost four months since he’d been here for the calendar shoot. So much had happened in that time. Then he noticed that Melinda’s shoulders were shaking. He strode over to her and, taking a mostly dry gift-wrapped box from his leather jacket and placing it on the desk, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders resting his cheek on her head. She grasped his forearm with her two hands and held on as though he was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world as she sobbed.

“I’m so sorry, Melinda,“ he whispered against her hair.

“I hate you,” she choked through the tears. “I hate you so much right now."

“I don’t blame you.” But he didn’t move, didn’t pull away, just held her even tighter to him.

Gradually her wracking sobs slowed and her grip on his arm lessened slightly. With his free hand he reached into the pocket of his jeans, and with some difficulty pulled out a rain-sodden handkerchief and held it out to her. It was almost as sopping as he was but she took it from him and used it to wipe her eyes and face.

“Christ, Coulson. You’re making me wet,” she said as she suddenly realised the rain had soaked through his clothes into hers.

“I normally have to work a lot harder before I’m told that,” he murmured into her hair before grimacing and giving himself a mental face palm – totally inappropriate Phillip Coulson! Now was not quite the time for flirting. She was as likely to punch him in the balls as she was to laugh…probably more so actually. Fortunately, she hiccupped out a snort of what he presumed was laughter and smiled with relief. She squeezed his arm and he let go of her stepping back to give her some space so that she could turn round.

She lifted her purse and keys again. “Come with me,” she told him as she headed to the far side of the studio. Puzzled he picked up the box and followed her anyway. There was a service elevator and she pushed up the upper gate which dropped the lower one.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he entered.

“To get you out of those wet things,” she replied shutting the gates again and pressing the up button.

He ducked his head and looked at her with a raised eyebrow and that mischievous grin that she’d fallen for all those months ago. Her stomach did a little lurch as the elevator moved upwards but she knew it had nothing to do with its movement and everything to do with the man standing beside her. However outwardly she tried to appear disinterested by rolling her eyes and sighing.

“Don’t get any ideas, asshat. You’re not that special.”

He huffed out a gentle laugh and stood beside her with his arms folded over his chest as the elevator slowly continued its climb to Melinda’s apartment. When it juddered to a halt she opened the gates again and walked out into an open-plan living / kitchen area. The kitchen was huge, almost industrial in size which prompted a comment tinged with a slight hint of envy from Phil.

“Great kitchen, I didn’t realise you enjoyed cooking.”

“See that microwave in the corner?” Melinda asked him as she walked to a door at the opposite end of the room.

He looked over to a high-end silver microwave, “Yeah.”

“That’s the extent of my enjoyment for cooking.” Phil made a face at her confession. To have a kitchen like this and not use it was…well, should be…a criminal offence.

Melinda however had no such feelings. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook just that she didn’t have much inclination. She opened the door, apparently a linen closet, and pulled out some large towels then made her way back to Phil. She handed him the towels keeping one for herself.

“Get out of those wet things and have a shower if you want to. Go through the door next to the linen closet. The second door on the left of the corridor is the main bathroom. There’s a clean bathrobe on the back of the door you can use until your clothes dry.”

He nodded his head and thanked her and put the box down on the kitchen surface.

“What’s this?” she asked him her eyes going from the box to his face. The intense look he gave her made her gasp but for now they both ignored it…well, they tried to at least.

“The beginning of an apology, and a sincere hope,” he whispered in low voice which, like his gaze, went straight to the pit of her stomach. She bit her lip as he turned and walked away, holding the towels over his arm.

“First door on the left?” he enquired.

“No second. The first is my bedroom.”

He looked over his shoulder and nodded with a smirk and she cursed herself for falling for such an obvious ploy. Damn him! She narrowed her eyes at him only mildly annoyed as he disappeared through the door.

Melinda changed out of her wet top to a fresh t-shirt. She stared at the box on the counter as she towel dried her hair until curiosity got the better of her. She dropped her towel on a chair and started to carefully remove the wrapping paper then gave up ripping it off in chunks. Inside was a box embossed with Highland Park. She opened this too and inside was a bottle of limited edition single malt Scotch whisky called ‘[Thor](http://highlandpark.co.uk/shop/thor/)’ which was housed in a wooden frame echoing the contours of a traditional Viking long ship. It was beautiful and unbelievably hard to come by and criminally expensive.

She ran her fingertips down the neck of the bottle and thought over what he said as he gave her it, “The beginning of an apology, and a sincere hope.” The tears which had stopped in the studio welled up and spilled over again as she realised what he meant…“I drink wine with good food, beer with pizza and hotdogs _and whisky with friends_.” He had reached out and it was up to her whether or not to accept.

***

Phil returned from the bathroom wearing the robe he found (thankfully a neutral Egyptian cotton type you’d find in a hotel) holding his clothes in his arms.

He shrugged apologetically. “I wasn’t sure what to do with them…”

Melinda gave him a small smile and took them from him. She headed for the drier and put them inside turning the dial for 60 minutes.

“Okay Phil. You have an hour before your things are dry. Talk to me.”

She moved to the living area and sat on the couch, her back against the arm, her knees pulled up to her chin with her arms wrapped round them protectively. Phil took a deep breath and joined her sitting at the other end, his profile to her, his feet on the floor. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and began to talk.

“I was leaving to come here. I remember thinking…” he paused for a moment, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips at a memory. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was coming to you and then nothing. The next thing I remember is waking in a hospital room feeling as though my chest was on fire. I guess that was after they’d cracked it open to remove the bullet.”

Melinda was horrified but she fought the urge to go to him and instead, rested her chin on top of her knees waiting for him to continue while digging her nails into her palms.

“I was in and out of consciousness for a few days. Apparently I died.” Melinda’s breath hitched when he said it but he didn’t seem to notice and after a slight pause, he continued. “Some say it was for eight seconds but…I know it was more than that.” He paused again.

“After a week or so the police appeared and asked me about the shooting but there was really nothing I could tell them. I didn’t see anything. Nobody had been acting suspiciously. No threats had been made. They knew it was a professional hit so we could only assume it was to do with the case the firm was working on. The defendant, Ian Quinn, stood to lose a lot of money it he was found guilty not to mention the prison time he would serve.

After the police, the feds arrived and asked the same questions. I gave them the same answers. They confirmed it was what we suspected about Quinn; someone in our office had apparently leaked that we were running the forensic accounting investigation. Then they told me it had been released to the media that I’d died. They thought if he believed it, he might get careless and let his guard down.” He huffed out a tired laugh. “Didn’t work though; Ian Quinn had spend decades being careful. He wasn’t going to break just because some middle-aged accountant had been shot outside his own office building. But anyway I agreed so they kept the pretence going. When I was able they moved me to a safe house. No calls in or out; no visitors; no internet. No-one except Nick knew.”

“Nick?”

“He’s my counterpart in legal and CEO of SHIELD Investigation Division…and an old friend. He recruited me into the firm after I was discharged from the army. We’d served together for a time back in the day.”

“What about Darcy?”

This time Phil barked out a laugh that sounded genuine then winced and rubbed his jaw. Melinda looked and thought she could see the beginnings of a bruise. Phil confirmed her suspicions.

“Are you kidding? She found out today too. Still she gave me a hug after punching me in the face but I guess I deserved the punch more.”

“How could you keep it from her?” She didn’t add “from me” but the implication was there.

He dropped his gaze to the floor again. “I couldn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t just about the case, Melinda. As far as they knew, I was single with no attachments. If they believed otherwise it could have put you in danger. Grant Ward, the guy who leaked that SHIELD Security had called in to perform the audit told them I was the lead investigator so they knew it would be me giving evidence in court. Fortunately, he didn’t know I was on my way to you. If he had…” he left the rest of the sentence hanging. Melinda remembered Ward, nice body but one of the guys that had left her cold. Well now she knew why. With him her instincts had been correct. Maybe he and Garrett would be bunk mates.

“Was it worth it?” she whispered. She sounded so fragile, betrayed even.

He turned to face her, the pain obvious on his face. “To hurt you like this? No. To keep you safe? Yes, every time.”

Neither of them spoke for a few moments each lost in their own thoughts then Phil spoke again.

“The gamble worked though at least for the feds. When I arrived in court, Quinn lost it. He saw me and made a leap for me shouting, ‘You’re dead. You’re fucking dead. I had you fucking killed.’ Kinda difficult to come back from that in a court room full of witnesses. If we don’t get him for fraud, we’ll probably get him for conspiracy to murder. His lawyer went apoplectic. I almost felt sorry for him; Quinn was kind of a tool.”

He snorted out a laugh and after a few seconds so did May, the tension that had been building between them defused. Suddenly Phil grimaced and clutched his chest as a wave of pain hit him.

Melinda waited until his face relaxed again as the episode passed. “Is it always this bad?”

He shook his head. “No, just now and again; most of the time, I feel fine.” He gave a small laugh before continuing, “But I think my modelling days are over.”

Melinda got up from the couch and stopped in front of him. “May I see?”

He looked up at her then took a deep breath. He didn’t want her to; it was ugly and reminded him too much of how he’d made her suffer. However he couldn’t deny her and he stood. Gently, she opened the top of the bathrobe slightly, enough for her to see the scar, still angry and red, that ran down the centre of his chest. As she appraised it, in a whisper so quiet she almost missed it he said, “I don’t feel fine. I feel different.”

She looked at him not with sympathy but with empathy as she spoke, “You feel different because you _are_ different. Whether it was 8 seconds or 40, you died. There’s no way you can go through a trauma like that and not come out of it changed. The point of these things is to remind us that there is no going back, there’s only moving forward.”

He gazed back at her his expression so sad, so wounded and yet so incredibly innocent; the expression of a child. It touched her in more ways than she could define and helped her understand what she needed to do.

She dropped her hands from the robe and turned away from him lifting her t-shirt. Phil hissed when he saw the scars on her back. They were odd patterns of shapes and lines, almost like pictures of crop circles he’d seen on the TV... like ‘alien’ writing. “Jeezus Melinda!”

She lowered her t-shirt and turned to face him. “I had a boyfriend. He hid things from me. He was funny and kind and generous. I had no idea how much he was hiding until he began to get possessive and forceful then one day he finally snapped and hit me. I hit him back and the next thing I knew, I was coming round screaming as he carved these symbols into my back. He told me about how they talked to him, told him things about the future.”

Melinda paused for a moment to catch her breath. She had no idea it would be this difficult to talk about it again but she needed Phil to know she had once been as broken and lost as he was right now. The muscles in Phil’s jaw jumped as he clenched and unclenched them. He had seen some fucked up shit in his life; in the army and while working at SHIELD Security but this made him…he couldn’t begin to describe his emotions right now. He wanted to wrap his arms round this woman, this amazing, strong, courageous woman and hold her to him but instinctively he knew it would be entirely the wrong thing to do. So he kept still and silent and let her continue.

“He’d tied me to the bed but he must have been too out of his mind to do it properly. When I got the chance I managed to get one hand free and I scratched at his face. He punched me again but he dropped the knife and I managed to get it before him and stab him in the side with it. I cut the rope off the other wrist and got out of the apartment to a neighbour. He called the police and…well it turn out that my boyfriend was a serial killer wanted in four states. Oddly enough he couldn’t see the future at all, he was just some psycho out of his mind on expensive designer drug called GH325.”

Phil remembered the case; John Garrett, ex-special forces and government spook. He carved symbols into all his victims and left a note saying “She couldn't see what I could see, she didn’t understand - The Clairvoyant” after he killed them. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Melinda, what she must have gone through. This time he held out his hand to her and with a brief hesitation she took it. He held it to his mouth and gently kissed her fingertips not taking his eyes off hers. A small smile ghosted across her face and she touched her other hand to his face before she withdrew them and walked over to the kitchen counter.

He heard a crack as the seal on the bottle broke and then a pouring sound which stopped briefly then started up again. She screwed the cap back on the bottle and returned to him handing him a glass with a small measure of the single malt he brought. She touched her glass to his and in a soft voice said, “To whisky with friends.”

A solitary tear ran down Phil’s cheek as he nodded and gave her a small smile before taking a drink with her. It was good, excellent even, and perhaps later they would talk about it but right now neither of them thought about the whisky other than it being a symbol of a new beginning between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...WTF? I seriously don't know where my head was with this story but this is where my muse led me...you have to obey you're muse.
> 
> Highland Park 'Thor' does exist. Click on the link in the story.


	5. They so did it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short bonus chapter to lighten the mood before bed...read it if you like, or don't if you want to stay with the angst. Either way - thank you for reading.

On the Friday Darcy decided to throw Phil a “Welcome back from the dead (but if you ever do that again I’ll kill you myself) party”. As it was backed by Nick Fury himself, there was ~~little~~ nothing Phil could do about it so he went with the flow. It was short notice for everyone but other engagements were cheerfully cancelled and the conference room, law library and other areas round about were full of people happy that he was alive. Until today Phil had no idea he’d made an impact on so many lives; it wasn’t until Nick appeared silently beside him and pointed out it before calling him a “an idiot of fucking epic proportions!” and melted way just as silently as he arrived, that it struck him.

The party was beginning to overwhelm him, Darcy could see it is face, and was just about to head over to check on him when she saw his body suddenly relax and a smile melting the tension in his face. She turned in the direction he was looking and saw Melinda May; Darcy was never more pleased to have invited someone in her life and for a time she watched them from a distance.

Phil made his way towards her and Darcy was thrilled to see her face light up as Phil approached. He stopped in front of her just inside what Darcy would consider personal space, and leant down to tenderly brush his lips against her cheek; there were no hugs, no touches but that kiss and the way they looked at each other afterwards told her everything she needed to know. It was further confirmed as Phil guided her around the room introducing her to people his body always shielding hers not quite touching but so close a credit card wouldn’t have gotten between them. And then he finally placed his hand gently on the small of her back to direct her towards the stairs leading up to the gallery in law library and away from the crush of people so that they could be alone without leaving.

Skye placed her chin on Darcy’s should and murmured “They **_so_** did it.”

Darcy smiled and nodded. “They so totally did.”

**Author's Note:**

> The gifs and photos don't belong to me either so if the actual owners want these removed please let me know and it will be done.
> 
> This is specially for my tumblr Clark Gregg psychic porno link buddies and the Clarkette usual suspects…you know who you are and I love you for it
> 
> The Flatliner is a real drink; I know this because I’ve imbibed and survived to tell the tale but, hell, it’s gross!
> 
> Currently working on a follow-up to this because another tumblr buddy asked "Would you ever consider expanding this with a second chapter? Maybe actually send them on a date? Because it’s so good!" Thank you so very much for saying and yes...doing so right now - it's a lot more angsty but I hope you enjoy it :)


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